


Lessons We Are Taught

by ByTheDawn



Series: Stolen Moments [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 00:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ByTheDawn/pseuds/ByTheDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a href="http://swanqueenweek.tumblr.com/">Swan Queen Week Midwinter 2014</a>. Day four: Teacher AU.</p><p>When Emma Swan and her partner Graham Humbert are forced to attend a sensitivity training seminar organized by the Boston Police Department, Emma fears it may be the death of her. Thankfully the afternoon speaker, Dr. Regina Mills, PhD., who will lecture on the peculiars of supporting survivors of sexual assault looks promising enough to stay awake for. When Regina Mills speaks of her own dark past, a genuinely moved Emma realizes there a lot more to the woman up on stage than beauty, and tries to get a little closer  to her.</p><p>(Trigger warnings: general discussion of the topic of sexual assault, but no flashbacks or actual assault. Indexed as 'Rape/Non-Con' out of consideration to anyone who has had to deal with this in their lives and does not need to be triggered, but there is no rape in this story, nor non-consensual sex. There is mention of both, however, as a theoretical discussion topic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons We Are Taught

**Author's Note:**

> Anything I could think to write with this prompt was basically the plot of 'Loving Annabelle', or a variation thereof, and I didn't want to do that. As such, I took it in an entirely different direction. There is implied Black Queen in this fic, as well as remarks upon the non-consensual nature of Regina's relationship with Leopold.

These were going to be four very, very, long hours, Emma Swan decided as she took her first sip of her sixth cup of horrible coffee today. Looking around, she found many of her colleagues from the Boston police department wincing similarly over either the coffee or their current situation. Here and there, she also spotted some firefighters and even a couple of ambulance medics who she had previously spotted at crash sites all over the city, and she mentally saluted each and every single one of them for their bravery in showing up today. Not that this whole day long suck-fest could be avoided, but still.

Whoever had come up with mandatory sensitivity training—especially for the women—needed to be sacked. The last thing Emma needed was being plastered to a damn fold-out chair for the better part of her day, listening to a bunch of stuck up psychologists babbling on about not molesting your perps. Emma had predicted this would suck, and lo and behold; she had been right. The morning had started off with Boy Wonder, who was barely out of college and fumbled through two hours of verbatim reading of the world’s most boring lecture on a topic Emma had previously held interest in: the public opinion on first responders.

Best she could tell, Boy Wonder had written his dissertation on aggression against those who first responded to the scene of a crime or accident, and he presented his findings as if all of them didn’t live this shit as a reality every single day. There really was nothing better than to show up somewhere and get flack for it, Emma mused, and she didn’t need a reminder of those incidents, especially because she had a stack of paperwork sitting on her desk and thirty open cases waiting for her. She did not have the time for this crap.

After Boy Wonder’s sad attempt at a lecture, she had given up all hope for this day to work out decently, and she had completely missed the second lecture. She only remembered the aging male because he had a hilarious twitch in his left eye that had Emma in stitches half way through his allotted two hours.

“So, ready for snooze fest number three?” The male voice that came out of nowhere should have startled Emma, but instead, she simply smirked into her cup. At least the stuff smelled like coffee. 

“Sure! This is the hands-on part, right? Where we actually get to grope each other? I just can’t wait.” The sarcasm was dripping from her words, and she shot her partner a sideways grin. Since graduating from the police academy at eighteen, Emma had rotated through a good few partners, but Graham Humbert had finally been the one to stick. His dry sense of humour and his complete disregard for her stand-offish behaviour had finally settled her enough for the partnership to last through the first week, then the first month, and now they were two years in. If anyone knew her, it was Graham.

“Hope not,” he answered lightly as he took a sip from his coffee before wincing. “Damn, this is bad… anyway, the schedule says it’s on dealing with victims of sexual abuse, so I doubt there is going to be much touching in the role play part of the session.”

Emma hummed at that, indicating that she agreed. She didn’t really appreciate the topic at hand. As part of the Major Crimes unit with a specialization in violent robbery cases, she came across rape victims on occasion. It was never pretty, and roleplaying a scenario from that playbook did not sit well with her. It might have just been her imagination, but her coffee seemed to taste a little more bitter with the news.

“Who’s teaching?” She asked and Graham scanned the pamphlet he was been holding.

“R. Mills, PhD.” He answered her. “Never heard of ‘em”

“Me either. If this is another Freudian stiff in a bad suit, I am going to sleep, though. Wake me up when the kumbaya’s come on.” Emma murmured. The good thing about Graham was that he knew how to read her and interpret her words. He knew that what she was really saying was _’I don’t deal well with rape and sexual assault, because it hits close to home and we see too much of it. I care too much for this talk to be bad’._ Graham just hummed in acknowledgement.

The two turned away from the coffee table, scanning the auditorium that had been transformed into a variable classroom minus the tables. Fold-out chairs that were a bane to the existence of anyone who was forced to sit down on them were placed strategically throughout the space in order to maximize its capacity, and the two ends of the room were occupied by a small stage on the one end and the dreaded coffee table in the other. It was like every seminar Emma had ever attended, really, and all she could think about was that this was taking her away from her cases—including two with sexual assault victims.

From the corner of her eye, Emma caught a female figure heading purposefully towards the stage, and in a room mostly filled with men, Emma’s eyes almost automatically remained glued to the beautiful brunette who perfectly filled out a casual kind of pantsuit and white button down shirt. Even from all the way in the back of the room, the blonde could see that she was stunning.

“No way. If that’s Dr. Mills, I moving to seats in the front.” Emma whispered to her partner as she bumped him and motioned her head towards the stage. He let out a soft whistle in return.

“Wow. How long was this workshop? Four hours? And we get paid for being here, right? Christmas might have come early.” He agreed. As they watched, the woman hooked up a tablet to the beamer provided for her by the Boston PD and arranged a few items on the table serving as a lectern. Without warning, she then looked up—right into Emma’s eyes. Emma was struck as if by lightning. Sure, they were far away, and sure, they did not know each other, and sure, she was fairly certain the brunette was as straight as an arrow, but that did not stop Emma from suddenly feeling as if time had stopped. Her heart seemed to come to an abrupt halt as dark eyes caught hers and she just stood and stared. It was the woman’s smile that kick-started her system and she jumped, almost spilling coffee on herself and her partner.

“Sheesh Swan, are you okay?” Graham questioned, scrambling out of the way. Emma quickly pulled herself into a ‘nothing happened here’-stance that she hoped came off natural as she tried to fight the blush that crept up to her cheeks.

“Peachy. Let’s just grab out seats.” She gritted out, setting her now nearly empty plastic cup down on the table to be taken care of by the cleaning crew later on. While Emma kept her head studiously down, her and Graham found their seats near the isle, six rows in. Graham, meanwhile, teased her about her little stunt, and Emma ignored him. As the other attendants found their seats as well, Emma carefully let her eyes slide up to the stage again. The woman was preparing her speech and Emma passionately hoped that she hadn’t caught Emma’s terribly embarrassing display back there. 

Emma wasn’t a stranger to ending up in embarrassing situations, but it was a rare feat for a complete stranger to totally overtake her with just a look. For a moment there, Emma had been alone in the room with dark eyes and perfect lips, and now even the memory of the event caused her stomach to clench uncomfortably. 

“So… just how long has it been since you got laid?” Graham started another round of teasing, and she elbowed him in the ribs effectively enough to coax a satisfying ‘umpf’ out of him. He had a point, though. With the work schedule they had been keeping and her waning interest for men—or should that be growing interest for women?—it had been a while since Emma had shared her bed with anyone. Graham was well aware of that fact—and her fluxuating sexuality—thanks to a recent night in a dingy bar after the successful closing of a major case when Emma had drunkenly confessed her theoretical bisexuality and her desire to put her newfound feelings into practice. She had hoped he’d gotten too drunk to remember but alas, luck was not on her side; he had remembered splendidly—although his karaoke session had been suspiciously forgotten—and from that moment on the teasing was on. Emma only put up with it because it was tied to silent acceptance of whatever made his partner happy.

Emma was saved from answering by Dr. Mills, whose amplified voice resounded in the room. Emma groaned; even her voice was sexy. Oh, these were going to be rough hours, and not just because of the seats. 

“Good afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Regina Mills—please call me Regina—and I am a crisis counsellor associated with Social Services. It is my honour to be your afternoon speaker. If you will indulge me, I will spent the first hour on a general discussion on our primary subject: sexual assault, as most of you will come across it in your jobs at one point or another. We then have a bit of time set aside for a discussion on the topic, followed by a break and a shorter lecture on special victims; kids, the elderly, LGBT cases and male sexual assault survivors, mostly. Especially in the latter lecture, we will discuss the questions to ask, how to approach survivors of sexual assault, and we will discuss the use of gender-neutral pronounce, so be warned in advance—“ Dr. Mills’ easy demeanour and quiet confidence was infectious and most of the room laughed at the sassy promise implied at the end of the sentence, Emma included.

“After that lecture, there is some time left for a couple of role plays to test out the knowledge you have gleaned today and while there is no test, I will walk around during group role plays and discussions to listen and give pointers where necessary. Before we begin, I want to say that this is a safe room, and I hope you will honour that spirit with me. I would like us to make a promise that what is said in this room, stays in this room and we will hold each other to that. If you agree with this, raise your hand, please.” The Latina woman smiled effortlessly as all hands went up, including Emma’s.

“Alright, with that settled, honesty tends to follow bravery, so I am going to be the brave one today and put myself out there. I grew up in an abusive home with an overbearing mother who sexually abused me for most of my teenage years. When I tried to run away with my boyfriend, she took me away and forced me into a marriage with a man who was also sexually abusive. I was with him for far too many years before I found the courage to get out of the marriage and go into hiding. With a lot of help, I have managed to turn these experiences into a way to help others and when I am not working directly with survivors, I speak at schools, at seminars like these, or at shelters. Because I know what some of you are thinking—yes, my husband was convicted of the abuse he bestowed upon me, but due to the statute of limitations, my mother never was. 

“I don’t tell my story lightly, and not without reason, but I have spoken to cops, firefighters, and doctors before and I know that many of you were wondering when I stepped up on this stage why I felt I was qualified to talk to you about this subject. I don’t know what you go through; I usually arrive on site after the worst is over, I never deal with the first reaction—but I have had the first reaction and I understand abuse. My goal today is to share some of my triggers, to extend some of the lessons that were taught to me, and to convey how a few simple adjustments in posture, speech pattern and language can make a world of difference… and I would like to start now.”

Emma took a quiet breath as she finally took her eyes off of the woman on the stage who she now regarded in an entirely different light. With every quietly and positively spoken word, Regina Mills had flawlessly earned more and more of Emma’s respect—and she could feel the feeling reverberate throughout the room. No one was bored now, and no one complained. Regina had spoken with poise and grace of the terrible things that had been done to her in her youth, but never with the intent of sympathy. She was talking to cops and other first responders, and she knew these were the soldiers on the domestic front lines. They needed the tools to do their job, not to be burdened with even more crap than they already faced. Just by understanding that, she had validated herself in their eyes and yes—after that, Emma was far more willing to share the experiences her job forced upon her from time to time.

When Regina started the first lecture, Emma found herself scrambling for the notepad and pen that had been provided to every participant at the start of the day. She’d scribbled a total of eleven words before Regina’s lecture started, but half an hour in, she was already pages deep in the book, and she was not the only one. Regina Mills was an intelligent, organised and passionate speaker who handled the difficult subject with an ease that surprised Emma. After all, much of what she spoke about had been done to her at one point or another and while Emma could never get that picture out of her head entirely, she never once thought of Regina as a victim. Terminology did matter, she realized, because Regina never used the word ‘victim’ either; she used ‘survivor’, or other more empowering words that brought home to Emma once more how much strength it took to get over experiences like these—if you ever did entirely.

The first hour flew by and when Regina asked if there were any questions she could answer, the discussion flowed effortlessly. Many of them were willing to share a bit about their experiences or ask for pointers about cases that still kept them up. Emma found herself raising her hand multiple times, and every time Regina smiled at her before giving her the chance to speak. Emma’s stomach did a summersault with every single one. 

As they broke up the discussion for a well-deserved break, Graham leaned back in his seat as Emma reached for the water bottle hidden under hers. Taking a swig from it, she tried to process the past two hours while keeping an eye on the dark haired speaker who was carefully left alone for a moment as she walked over to the coffee table for—what Emma figured—was a cup of coffee. On impulse, she shot up and pushed past Graham to the isle.

“Where are you going?” He asked in confusion. With her eyes still on Regina, Emma held up the now empty bottle.

“Refill.” She explained, and Graham snorted.

“Go get her, tiger.” He teased and Emma glared at him a moment before crossing the room in long strides. By the time she arrived, Regina had poured herself a plastic cup of the foul liquid and was hunting for either sugar or cream, Emma wasn’t sure. She observed her a moment as she fell in line with her, reaching for a water bottle.

“You might want to rethink that decision.” She tried smoothly, and felt herself flush a little when dark eyes settled on her with amused curiosity. Up close, Regina was even more stunning, and Emma took note of the little scar over her lip. She wondered for a moment if that scar had a bad memory attached to it before pushing the thought away; she did not want to define Regina by her past, and Regina had made it clear that she did not want that either.

“And why is that Miss…?” Regina said, her voice filling with amusement. Emma got the idea that very little escaped Regina’s notice, and a fumbling, blushing, police officer certainly most certainly didn’t. Wiping her hand on her jeans before reaching out, Emma shook a soft, perfectly manicured, hand as she forced her own name out of her mouth.

“Swan, Emma Swan.” Trying to redeem herself in the eyes of the perfectly centred public speaker, Emma straightened as her hand was released. “I’ve had six cups of that stuff now and to say it’s an acquired taste would be an understatement.”

“I’ve gotten used to bad coffee by now, Emma.” Regina sassed mockingly, and Emma—who generally punched strangers who tried to use her first name—liked the way the word rolled off of Regina’s tongue. She shrugged.

“It’s your funeral,” She warned, and watched an eyebrow climb Regina’s forehead. “Just so you know, though, I think it would be a shame if you croaked on us. This is actually one of the best lectures I have ever attended.”

Regina smiled at Emma’s smooth but blatantly obvious compliment annex flirt. She held out her hand for the bottle in Emma’s, and Emma handed it over without question, smiling when Regina’s fingers brushed hers completely unnecessarily.

“If that’s the case, I guess I should stick around a while longer.” She sassed, and Emma grinned, again feeling a blush rise at the gaze Regina bestowed upon her. Inwardly, Emma was doing a little victory dance; if this was what flirting with a woman was like, it was a hell of a lot simpler than flirting with a man… and far more enjoyable. Still, she needed to get something off of her chest, and now she had the woman to herself a moment, it might as well be now.

“In all seriousness, though, I admire you for living through what you said up there, and coming out so well-adjusted on the other side.” She tried for neutral in her voice, but it was a genuine compliment and a touch of awe slipped in, regardless. This time, Regina’s smile was more honest and a lot less sassy.

“Thank you. I had a lot of help. For a while I wasn’t doing so well, and I caused quite a bit of damage to myself and those around me. Luckily, I had people who accepted me for who I was and gave me the space and support I needed to sort through my issues. Helping other survivors is a great help as well. I have bad days, still, but then I see the smile on my son’s face and everything is alright again.” Regina said, and Emma marvelled at the woman’s ability to open up to a perfect stranger. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to do that if she had to live through what Regina had—especially considering the fact that she had three deadbolts on her feelings and four on her innermost thoughts. She pitied the fool who intended to break through those walls. Shifting to a safer topic, Emma smiled and reached for a new water bottle.

“You have a son?” She questioned. Regina’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Yes, Henry. He’ll be eleven soon. He’s the only good thing to come out of my marriage.” Regina said, and Emma felt like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on her head. If Regina hadn’t looked so happy at the mention of her son Emma would have kicked herself for not realizing that the most plausible explanation for a son was Regina’s ex-husband. 

“I’m sorry…” she started. “I didn’t mean to—”

Regina’s hand on her arm stopped her. Emma shut her mouth as her eyes snapped down, and she felt her insides coil up as Regina gently rubbed her thumb over her shirt once before withdrawing the hand.

“It’s okay, Emma. I brought him up. There are times when I look at Henry and all I see is his father, but in the end, he is my son, and mine alone. He’s my gift, my little prince.” Regina said softly, and Emma knew that that little confession was for her alone. With a smile, Regina stepped back as a clear sign to indicate their intimate moment was over. The brunette glanced about and caught a few eyes. She nodded. 

“Shall we get back to it?” She said in what Emma now came to regard as her ‘public speaking’-voice, and there were a good few nods as the participants shuffled back to their seats, still talking and discussing the session so far.

“Miss Swan, I will need a volunteer for the first role play. You are a police officer, right?” Regina asked as her eyes settled back on Emma. Emma nodded. “What division?” 

“Robbery.” Emma answered proudly, not at all surprised Regina pegged her for a cop.

“Perfect. Would you do me the honour of helping me out?” She asked and Emma could only nod. Regina smiled brightly and tapped her arm lightly again before walking off, the bottle Emma had given her in hand. It took Emma a few seconds to shake herself from her panic and lust induced reverie and she had to hurry to her seat before Regina climbed the stage again.

“How did it go, killer?” Graham whispered with a shit-eating grin on his handsome features.

“She roped me into volunteering for the first role play.” Emma answered darkly, and Graham had just enough time for a good laugh at her expense. Emma underwent the punishment begrudgingly, but all her mind could provide was that she would soon be in very close proximity to Dr. Mills again, and she feared that thought alone would well keep her from paying any attention to the second part of the lecture.

She needn’t have worried. Where the first lecture had been very educational, the second one was inspired. Emma had never learned so much about a single subject in such a short amount of time. Regina was clearly very good at what she did, and Emma found herself forgetting to make notes, just so she could absorb Regina’s overarching message. Especially the special circumstances of LGBT sexual assault survivors spoke to Emma—and not just because she was fairly certain she belonged in that category. The social stigma’s attached to the label carried over into the fears of these special victims and by the end of the speech, Emma—and many others, Emma thought—found herself questioning if some of the people she had come across had simply hidden what happened to them from her and her colleagues because they were afraid of being judged and looked down upon even more than they already felt. With a tired sigh, Emma settled her eyes on Regina, who was answering questions. She couldn’t deal with processing this right now.

Another discussion and questions round ensued and was then swiftly followed by the rearranging of the room. All the chairs were pushed out so the group could form a circle. Regina picked out a few fire fighters to drag a couch and a chair into the circle from their hiding spot next to the stage, and carried over a lamp and a blanket herself. She stood in the circle, turning slowly as she explained that they were going to do a role play now; one as a group as an example to be discussed within smaller groups, and then new role plays in said groups. She would walk by to help and offer advice. 

“Alright, Miss Swan, if you would please join me?” Regina then announced, and Graham bumped her to get her to move. Emma admitted she was completely petrified now, but promises were promises and this afternoon had been pretty good so far. If Regina could step out of her comfort zone, so could she. She put on a brave face as she stood and grinned when her colleagues begun to hoot. Their applause was actually strengthening. As she joined the brunette instructor in the makeshift living room, Regina smiled at her and patted her shoulder, holding on to it as she next spoke.

“You’ll do just fine, Emma.” Regina assured before she shushed the group. 

“Alright, alright, thank you for the support for your colleague. Now, the idea is that we are going to play out a scene. I’m going to play the victim of a home invasion—you deal with those, don’t you, Miss Swan?” Emma nodded, mostly just basking in the glow of having Regina’s hand on her.

“Good, the idea is that you are first on scene. Your partner is walking around the premises, making sure the perpetrator is gone, while you get to deal with me. The living room is a mess, and the front hall is as well. You haven’t seen any of the other rooms, and your partner hasn’t come back to clue you in on what he has found. It’s little to go on, but I doubt that is unfamiliar.” Regina said, and Emma smiled stiffly despite her nerves. Regina had a way to make her feel comfortable about being uncomfortable.

“Alright, let’s do it.” She said braver than she felt, and steeled herself. Regina nodded, pulled away her hand, and sat down on the couch. She undid her high heeled boots and slipped them off, dropping them carelessly next to the couch. She slipped off her jacket and undid the buttons of her blouse, revealing a white tank top below. With determination, she ruffled her hair and rubbed at her perfect make-up. Before Emma could take in this new look, Regina wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and pulled her feet up onto the couch, wrapping her arms around her knees as she drew them up, and then hid her face. Her shoulders slumped, and she gently begun to rock back and forth. The transformation was jarring; Emma had found traumatized victims—survivors—in nearly similar positions, pressed into the side of a couch, completely disassociated from the situation.

Taking a deep breath, Emma found Graham’s eyes a moment and he nodded at her with a smile. Rolling her shoulders and neck, Emma stepped forward, trying to get the feel of the situation. Without an actual door to knock on, Emma lamely knocked the air next to her.

“Knock, knock…” she said gently, indicating she was knocking softly. There were a few chuckles from the audience, which she ignored. When no response came from Regina, she took a step ‘inside’. Her mind went blank for a moment, freezing in light of everything that had just been told to her by Regina. In the end, though, Emma knew she was a good cop, and she trusted herself to do well. She moved to a proper distance from the woman on the couch and crouched down. 

“Hey.” She tried gently, and gave the woman on the couch some time to react—or not. “I’m Emma, and I’m with the Boston Police Department. My partner, Graham, is outside, making sure that whoever hurt you is gone. You are safe now, alright?” She promised. 

“Nothing is going to happen to you while I’m here and I am not going anywhere.” Emma promised as she waited, keeping gentle eyes on Regina. ‘ _Think of the survivor as family, or your best friend. How would you want them to be treated?_ ’ Regina’s voice rang in her ears, and it was surprisingly easy to apply that logic to the brunette. Her heart jumped when Regina’s head came up, and eyes swirling with emotions settled on her. Emma wondered if Regina was pulling on old emotions to display this level of devastation on her face, and Emma was horrified to see that Regina was on the verge of tears.

Fighting to keep her face neutral and her body still, she allowed a small, comforting, smile to come to her features. Regina sighed and instinctively gave her a barest hint of a smile in return.

“May I ask what your name is?” She asked, trying to keep in mind that giving back any semblance of power was key. Regina’s eyes fixed on her a moment longer, and then fell to the floor between them.

“Regina Mills.” She said with a broken voice. It was this point that Emma forgot about the circle of onlookers and focussed solely on Regina; the Latina was that good an actress. Emma nodded with a grateful smile.

“Thank you for telling me. Can I call you Regina, or would you prefer I use you family name?” She asked, keeping Regina’s advice at the front of her mind.

“R-Regina is fine.” The brunette said with a sob, and Emma fought herself; she couldn’t reach out. No sudden movements, no touching.

“Okay, Regina, would you mind if I took a seat on this chair over there?” Emma tried, gently pointing to the chair a little to her right. _Give Regina her space_ , she reminded herself. Regina nodded as she leaned back just a little, opening herself up non-verbally. Emma slowly got up and sat down, leaning forward a little, but making sure to keep her posture non-threateningly. 

“Perhaps you could tell me what happened to you…?” She prodded gently, and Regina took a deep breath before starting on her story.

Ten minutes later, Emma was shaken out of her role when Regina—now sitting much more relaxed on the couch and having shared quite a horrible story—straightened and stood. Emma automatically did as well, and before she knew it, she had two arms full of gorgeous—abide slightly dishevelled—enthusiastic beauty. Regina’s skin was warm, and her body firm against hers. As her colleagues clapped for their performance, the innocent hug ended as abruptly as it had started—before Emma had even fully wrapped her arms around Regina in return. Still, it lasted long enough for a wildfire tingling to shoot through Emma’s frame and her nose to fill with the unique scent of the woman who had almost moved her to tears with her performance just now. The loss when Regina pulled back was almost painful, but soothed by the hands that clasped around her upper arms and the megawatt smile that fell upon her.

“You did perfect.” Regina complimented, and Emma wasn’t completely sure, but she could have sworn she had actually touched the woman before her with the way she had acted—well, played out the scene; she hadn’t acted a damn thing—it had all just been her, reacting to a woman in pain. Suddenly, Emma wondered how well Regina was really coping—this couldn’t have been easy. She didn’t have time to investigate the thought because hands left her and begun to button up a crumpled shirt while Regina addressed Emma’s colleagues. A fierce blush came to Emma’s cheeks as she realized she had just spent nearly fifteen minutes in deep conversation with a woman playing out an assault that had never actually happened while being looked upon by nearly thirty men and women—and she hadn’t been aware of them for more than five minutes. She got nods, though, from her colleagues, and smiles, and a thumbs up here and there. Relieved, Emma exhaled as her eyes automatically slid back to the enigmatic brunette still next to her. 

Upon Regina’s instructions, four groups were formed while Regina turned back to her. Her make-up and hair were still a mess, but there was a soft smile on her features. Emma was amazed at the difference in her posture from just a few minutes ago—and with the change back to the confident Regina she had gotten used to, Emma let her mind wonder for a moment, trying to picture if this state would resemble Regina if she woke up after a night of good sex without taking off her make-up first.

“I must look quite a mess right now, but you know I clean up at least moderately well,” Regina said, shaking Emma from her thoughts as she stepped a little closer, bringing her voice down to an intimate drawl. Emma was about to say that ‘moderately well’ was certainly an understatement, but Regina pressed on, knowing that their private time amidst the chaos of moving chairs and rallying people would be short-lived.

“…and excuse me if I got the signals crossed here, but I felt a little something between us over at the drinks table, and I really appreciate what you just did here so… I’d like to ask you if you would have dinner with me tonight, after were done here?” Regina asked, and Emma marvelled at the way Regina didn’t seem to care about blatantly asking out a woman in a room full of emotionally closed off individuals who worked with the object of her request. Emma wasn’t out—just to Graham—but she wasn’t about to pass up on this.

“I’d love to.” She answered and reached out—carefully, because unlike Regina, she couldn’t let go of their role play so easily—to squeeze the brunette’s hand a moment before stuffing her hands in her pockets and joining Graham in the circle he had picked out for them, only glancing behind her once with a smile on her features that Regina returned.

“You okay?” He whispered to her as she joined in, momentarily distracted from the awkward role play between two of their colleagues. Emma smiled and nodded, and Graham grinned.

“Lucky you.” He commented as he leaned into her. Yeah, Emma agreed as she chanced another glance at the brunette, who had miraculously salvaged her hair and most of her make-up. She was damn lucky. Nudging her partner with her shoulder, both focussed back on the scene unfolding in front of them, but Emma didn’t register a single bit of it. All that was playing through her mind was her impending date with a gorgeous and intriguing woman and the realization that if anything, she was absolutely, totally, undeniably bisexual; she couldn’t be happier about it.


End file.
